


Leather

by offmilk



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Minor Jackbum, another 'mark is just trying to live his life but unfortunately cannot', hyungline troubles aka my favourite thing, jb and jackson are fuckboys, on and off!jinson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-19 10:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13121478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offmilk/pseuds/offmilk
Summary: Mark’s not trying to fall in love with his fuckboy friend. But he does.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! so basically i was planning to come back in late nov after my exams were done, and i had this massive plan to upload like every week and generally learn how to be a good author but it's late dec now so it goes without saying that that didn't work out very well AHAHAHA such is life.
> 
> so here we are!! hope you're all well and have a lovely holiday! <3

It was dark and the sounds of the party seemed muffled, Foster the People’s distinct tune evident even though they were outside by the pool. Mark tugged tighter on the jacket wound around his shoulders, bringing his knees towards his chest as he felt the arm around his waist slip, warmth leaving his shivering body as he leaned closer towards Jinyoung. Jaebum stood up and on the other side, Jackson did too.

“Bet you can’t backflip into the pool,” Jackson said.

Jaebum scoffed. Mark watched as he tugged off his fitted black shirt, tossing it onto the grass as if he knew he wouldn’t need it for the night. Jaebum circled the edge of the pool, sneakers already discarded on the grass as Jackson followed suit.

“Don’t dive near the steps,” Mark said idly.

The boys didn’t reply. Mark watched through hooded eyes as Jackson started hyping him up, eyes bright and Jaebum’s smile bordering on arrogant. A few girls on the corner, sitting by the edge of the pool, looked up and smiled. On his side, Mark felt Jinyoung stiffen.

“Let’s go,” Jackson grinned.

Jaebum only flipped because Jackson dared him to. That, and one of the girls seemed to have half an eye on him, flipping aside her violet-coloured hair when he burst out of the water, disoriented and boyish, the perfect kind of summer romance. The song had changed and Mark thought they were doing a throwback, because he could hear Craig David in the background, and when Jackson outdid him, he swam towards the younger to drag him into a headlock. The girls giggled and they turned their attention towards them, swimming over like good little college boys.

The beer in Jinyoung’s cup suddenly tasted sour, off like expired milk. He dumped the liquid unceremoniously on the yellowing grass and Mark didn’t need a degree to know that Jinyoung was done for the night, he would be pissed for the rest of the week, and when Jackson asked where he left his favourite hoodie, Jinyoung would offhandedly remark that he might’ve donated it in his weekly clean-up of their dorm. That would piss Jackson off, of course, and they would spend the rest of the week lingering between unresolved sexual tension and a strong sense of petty distaste. And Mark, Jinyoung’s roommate, Jackson’s best friend, would inevitably be stuck in between.

“Let’s get you home,” Mark suggested, pulling the jacket closer to himself as he hurled Jinyoung up, away from the dirty beach chairs and back into the house so they could leave from the front door.

No one tried to bring them back, everyone too far gone to recognise the boy who had once dyed his hair red and the king of first loves. Perhaps it was best. Jinyoung would rather die than have people see the ugly, selfish, bitter part of him that came from Jackson and drinking. When Jinyoung threw out of all Jackson’s clothes down the balcony that night, Mark picked them up and lugged them into his old Honda Civic, clothes scattered along his backseat like he’d just been dumped, and because he’d had a few drinks, he decided to save the trip to Jackson and Jaebum’s until the next day.

Mark agreed to continue drinking with Jinyoung, even though Mark was a lightweight and Jinyoung was drinking to forget. Jinyoung ended up lugging him to the toilet and patting his back as he vomited into the bowl.

 

 

No one could call Mark Tuan a saint.

Sure, he was a nice guy. Alright, most people would say, sort of quiet, had a nice smile, not the kind of guy you trusted your life with, and certainly not the kind of boy who volunteered at the pet shelter every weekend and was a first-aid supervisor at big marathon events. He picked up Jackson’s clothes from the floor because they were expensive, and because Jinyoung would regret throwing them the next day and never admit to it, and despite whatever sort of apathy Mark appeared to harness, he really did like Jinyoung. The next morning, after he’d swallowed some aspirin to nurse his headache, he drove to Jackson and Jaebum’s flat. It was close to midday – Mark wasn’t very good with mornings – and he used the key hidden under the mat because he didn’t think that either boy would be home, much less awake, at noon.

One of Jackson’s favourite jackets was throw over their shoe rack, like he’d decided haphazardly last night that he’d look better without it. An unfamiliar pair of tall, white heels was tossed next to expensive Nikes and some oxfords Jaebum had ruined. Mark stepped over the mess of shoes and paused. The headache he was nursing came back quietly, momentarily, making him hold onto a nearby desk as he willed it away. He should’ve stopped drinking when they’d returned home.

Jackson wasn’t in his room when Mark entered. It didn’t appear that he’d returned at all. The bedroom looked just as it always did before Jackson planned to get laid – a catastrophe of clothing, hats and expensive jewellery, a few too many studs with their sharp edges pointed at the ceiling, ready to stab anyone’s arm should they dive into the bed. Mark rolled his eyes. He dumped the clothing on the bed because he wasn’t a saint, and because Jackson wouldn’t notice anyway.

When he walked out of the room, someone called to him.

“Jackson?”

Mark turned. A girl his age, maybe a little bit older, stood in an off-shoulder blue dress. One short and ruffled, something for spring and the races rather than a one night stand. Her hair was thrown into a messy but tasteful bun, and her feet were bare. Mark eyed the tall heels at the door, then back at the girl.

“Jaebum’s roommate?” She supplied, as if that would explain their meeting. Mark shook his head slowly.

“I’m just a friend,” he said. “Mark.”

She smiled. “Jinah.” And shook his hand.

They stood in a sort of awkward silence for a few minutes. Mark scratched the back of his head when Jinah spoke up.

“I’ll show myself out.”

She had legs like a ballet dancer. She tip-toed over their converse and oxfords to get to her heels, strapping them on while standing.  When she was done she gave Mark a casual nod, and then left with the soft thud of the closing door.

Mark stood in the centre of their flat, blank and clean, fingers still curled around a leather jacket that didn’t belong to him. It was like she hadn’t even been there. Wryly, he wondered what Jaebum had done to land such a beautiful girl.

Jaebum’s door was ajar and Mark peeked through. His friend was sleeping half-naked, sweats tossed on as an afterthought as a soft grey blanket covered his stomach. He didn’t seem to notice Mark’s intrusion, nor Jinah’s departure, eyes crinkled and a smaller pillow tossed over his face. Mark scoffed. He slipped through the room and placed the jacket on Jaebum’s favourite black chair. He texted Jaebum that he’d left it in his room. Jaebum’s phone buzzed and suddenly the boy stirred.

He groaned, squinting.

“Mark?”

Mark’s lips formed a half-smile.

“Hey. Just here to drop off Jackson’s things.”

Jaebum groaned and closed his eyes again.

“Left your jacket on the chair,” Mark said.

Jaebum shifted his body.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

When Mark drove back to his house, he stopped at a traffic light and had to rub his eyes. His wrist swiped past his nose and he smelt something unfamiliar on his own skin, some mixture of citrus and burning wood, something masculine but still elegant, like oxford shoes and pants that stopped just above the ankles. He frowned.

Jaebum should really lay off the cologne. And Mark should really shower.

 

 

“Jinyoung?”

Jaebum smiled.

“No, just me.”

Mark shrugged. He’d just finished his shower, put on an oversized shirt and some decent sweatpants, and he was feeling really warm and blissful and just wanted to cuddle on the couch with his roommate, homework damned at the corner of their coffee table, a laptop and worksheets he’d get to eventually. Jaebum sat at the corner of their faded couch, his leather jacket swapped out for a sharp caramel blazer and a mustard turtleneck. He looked soft, soft but still rigid, like a piece of university Mark wanted to leave far behind from their room. Mark walked to the other side of the couch, pulling his legs over the length of the sofa and into Jaebum’s lap.

Jaebum looked up from his phone.

Mark raised an eyebrow.

“I’m cold,” he said.

Jaebum shrugged.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Mark pulled out his phone and scrolled through his Facebook feed, opening the trillions of tags that Jackson had thought to grace him with. He liked a few, commented on the ones about his likeness to a wall before he got tired and closed his phone. Jaebum’s body eventually warmed up his feet and then his legs, and in clean clothes he was ready to fall asleep.

Jaebum’s thighs bounced.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” he warned. “You’re heavier than you look.”

Mark looked up.

“It’s all muscle,” he grinned.

Jaebum scoffed. Mark placed his phone face-down on his lap.

“Where’s Jackson?” He asked.

“Beats me.”

“Where’s Jinyoung?”

“Library.”

Mark paused.

“Why are you here?”

Jaebum didn’t waste a moment to pretend to be offended.

“Your place is closer to my tutorial room.”

“You run a tutorial?” Mark asked. Jaebum nodded. “Explains the blazer.”

Jaebum raised an eyebrow.

“Mr I-Have-Seven-Leather-Jackets-for-Each-Day looking like a prep boy?” Mark teased. “I didn’t think you’d put that on willingly.”

Jaebum scoffed, adjusting the collar of his blazer.

“That was last year,” he looked down, almost bashful. “I think this looks nice.”

Mark tilted his head.

“It does.” He looked thoughtful. “You look more…mature.”

Jaebum stared at him, eyes sharp, fake glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He didn’t push it back up. They kept up this staring game, Mark’s gaze never questioning, and he wasn’t exactly sure why they were staring at each other, why they were suddenly quiet, why they had started speaking to begin with. Jaebum was attractive, he thought, eyes dragging from his own to the bridge of his friend’s nose, then to his lips. His jaw always clenched when he was mad, which was often. His neck was pale, sporting a fading hickey hidden smartly by a turtleneck. He was every first-year’s wet dream, the pretty tutorial teacher, elegant and kind, somehow distant, somehow older, perfect for an elicit romance. Mark’s eyes trailed back to Jaebum’s and for a moment they were transfixed.

“I returned your jacket.” Mark wasn’t sure why his voice had suddenly gotten so quiet. He barely rose above a whisper. “I left it on the chair.”

“I know,” Jaebum replied.

Mark blinked. And then he was out of the moment.

Jaebum’s phone was blinking. A few notifications went off and his attention moved from Mark to his phone, a small smirk etching onto his features. Mark watched his lips, watched the way he bit them when he unlocked his phone and started typing, watched how even before he was able to pocket his phone it went off again, and the third time Jaebum had texted back, he moved Mark’s feet off his lap.

“Gotta go,” he explained.

Mark tilted his head.

“Jackson?”

Jaebum shook his head. He smirked.

“Date.”

Something rose in Mark, something momentary, temporary, gone as soon as it had arrived. He gulped and watched the door close, the silence of the room suddenly a presence. He tilted his head.

Jinyoung arrived soon after, takeout from his favourite Korean restaurant hanging by his fingers, and Mark didn’t have to think again.

 

 

“Jaebum was here,” Mark told him as he started setting up the table. He grabbed two cheap plates from the cabinets above the sink, Jinyoung unboxing the soft tofu stew and rice he’d bought for the two. “He just left.”

“I didn’t see him,” Jinyoung said. He went into the kitchen to deposit the plastic cutlery in their drawers. It was good to save disposable cutlery. “Why did he come?”

“We’re close to his tutorial, apparently,” Mark said.

“Ah,” Jinyoung nodded. “Can you grab some placemats? I think this leaked through.” He was holding up a faintly red container.

“Didn’t they close it properly?” Mark brought out two flimsy boards, sliding them under the Styrofoam cups. “Thanks, by the way.”

Jinyoung waved his hand.

“No problem.” His lips curved into a grimace. “Think of it as a thank you. For Thursday.”

Mark blinked. He thought briefly back to Thursday, remembered the clothes on the floor, the headache he nursed, and driving to Jaebum and Jackson’s flat.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he murmured. “That’s what friends do.”

Jinyoung scoffed.

“I already bought it,” he replied. “Don’t bother.”

Mark closed his mouth.

Mark was cleaning his bowl – Jinyoung finished and full – when they heard a knock at their door. Exchanging looks, Mark wiped his mouth and moved towards the door. Turning the knob, Mark didn’t hide his surprise.

“Jackson?”

Their guest smiled sheepishly, his signature grin impossible to turn away. Out of habit, Mark moved to the side, allowing his friend to enter.

“What are you doing here?” Mark asked.

Jackson walked through, dropping his wallet in their bowl of keys. “Jaebum kicked me out.”

Jinyoung scoffed. “Really?” There was an edge to his tone, thinly veiled as a joke. “What’d you do this time?”

Jackson looked offended.

“Nothing!” He gauged Mark and Jinyoung’s suspicious gazes. “No, seriously, nothing! He’s just got plans tonight. Plans I have no intention of hearing.”

Mark thought back to Jaebum’s sudden departure.

“Ah,” he guessed, “His date?”

Jackson scoffed.

“If you want to call it that, sure – his _date_.”

Jinyoung raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. Jackson saw it.

“Anyway,” Jackson smiled, “Can I crash here?”

He asked, as if they would ever say no. Mark shrugged, and Jinyoung turned away.

“You can bunk with Mark,” he said dismissively. “I’ve got an assignment tonight and I don’t want any distractions.”

“What?” Jackson frowned. “Wouldn’t it be better if I stayed in your room then? Since you’d be just in the living room working anyway…”

Jinyoung glared.

“Jackson,” Mark said quietly. “Drop it.”

Jackson understood quickly. Jinyoung finished off his food and went to his room, slamming the door as he left. The flat, small and packed and messy, seemed to grow a heart and formed walls that squeezed, pressed and pushed until they felt suffocated.

Jackson looked to Mark, and Mark gave him a long, meaningful stare.

“You know what you did,” Mark said before the younger could speak.

Jackson gaped, like a goldfish. And Mark felt regretful.

The thing was – Jackson wasn’t really a fuckboy.

Not really, though he sure seemed to act like one. Jackson did all the right things – he dated semi-regularly, bedded every person he could find, charmed parents and insecure girls and left a careless but accidental trail of broken hearts wherever he went. But Jackson was also crippling with insecurity, desperate for romance, a player who fell deep and hard into every relationship he danced into. Jackson wasn’t a fuckboy, Mark thought, because he felt everything he said, he meant every text he sent, and his issue wasn’t manipulation, it was falling too hard in and out of love. Jackson fell in love with a different person every hour, every second of the day.

And that didn’t really make him a fuckboy. But Bambam always said that Mark gave Jackson too much leeway because they were childhood friends.

Mark walked over to the couch, opening his laptop to start his report. It was due in two weeks, but Jackson didn’t need to know that. His friend watched him, stuck in his place like their floor was made of quicksand. If Jackson had puppy ears, they would flatten, and his mouth would curve into a pout. His head was tilted down like a kicked puppy.

Jinyoung had a soft spot for puppies; so Jinyoung, if he wasn’t mad, would probably call out to Jackson and explain what made him so mad and accept whatever apology Jackson would splutter out. But Mark had been with Jackson since he was nine, and over the years he’d learned how to endure Jackson’s moods. He ignored the younger boy.

Seven minutes – it took seven minutes for Jackson to waddle over to the couch, tail between his legs, sitting thigh-to-thigh with Mark. Thirty seconds later Jackson’s arm was around Mark – a peace offering – and then Mark’s legs were over his lap. This was his way of apologising. Mark rolled his eyes, setting down his laptop.

“You have to make a decision,” Mark said. He pulled out his phone as Jackson frowned.

“What?”

“You know what I mean.” Mark motioned towards his flatmate’s door. “You need to make a decision about him.”

Jackson was still playing dumb. “Who? Jinyoung?”

Mark glared at him sharply. It shut the younger up.

“You know how it is,” Jackson’s voice had gone softer. Mark placed his phone down. “I don’t know yet.”

He frowned.

“What if I like Jaebum?” He asked. “What if I like Namjoon? Heck, what if I like you?”

Mark snorted and Jackson smiled, because he loved to lighten the mood.

“He doesn’t have to wait for you,” Mark told him. “He won’t wait any longer than he has to.”

“If he really loves me,” Jackson murmured. “He’ll wait.”

Mark raised an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Mark said quietly.

Jackson didn’t see the point in replying. In the end, they both knew, what Jinyoung did was Jinyoung’s choice. And Mark was lying; they both knew that. Jinyoung was strong and he was witty and he had a sharp tongue, but he was also a hopeless romantic, the kind with thorny roses in his hair, and he would wait for Jackson for a million years, because that was the romantic thing to do. Mark rolled his eyes.

Their night passed mostly in silence. Mark pretended to do his economics report while Jackson scrolled through his phone. He mimicked Jaebum, Mark thought, the way mindless scrolling turned into erratic texting. Jackson’s smile was like the Cheshire Cat, charming and slightly devious and rank of bad decisions. His stubby nails still made a sound against the screen, and when Mark had formatted his bibliography of sources he had not yet used, he decided to call it a night.

“Already?” Jackson had asked him in disbelief. “It’s ten-thirty!”

Mark shrugged. “I’m tired.”

“You’re a fucking nine-year-old, that’s what you are.”

Mark shrugged again, and Jackson let out a yell.

“You’re so _boring_ , Mark.”

Mark turned around, looked at him, and walked back to his room.

“I’m going to turn on all the lights when I go to bed!” Jackson called. “I’m going to turn them all on and wake your boring ass and create the single biggest event in your social life!”

Mark ignored him and went to bed.

 

 

When Mark woke up at 10 AM the next day, Jackson was nowhere to be found. When he walked into the kitchen, he noted that Jinyoung was missing as well, and that Jinyoung’s door was closed. Mark didn’t question it. They were probably doing something lewd, like making out, or something fond, like sleeping in each other’s arms. Mark walked into the kitchen and fixed himself some cereal.

He was sitting at the small round table, eating his cereal calmly, when he heard a broken moan. A sound cut by someone else’s lips, a quick whisper to quieten the voice down. Mark knew his cue to leave. He finished his cereal at the sink, left the bowl dirty because he wasn’t a saint, slipped into some Nikes and left the apartment.

His Saturday was quiet. Near the university, students were either nursing hangovers or catching up on sleep they’d desperately missed. He passed by a few active students, taking jogs with the autumn breeze, but other than that he hardly saw anyone. He walked aimlessly, mind drifting. Mark was lucky that the coat he’d chosen had earphones – otherwise he would’ve been left alone.

The same song that was playing at the party, the Foster the People song he couldn’t quite place, burst through his earphones and he checked the name of the song. ‘Sit Next to Me’ – it sounded like a college romance, a first-date movie filled with buttery popcorn fingers and chaste first kisses. He walked fast, into an apartment and up the lift. He knew Jackson and Jaebum’s building like the back of his hand.

He knew the key under the mat and he knew his way around faster than his mind could catch up. In his best friend’s apartment, he suddenly felt horribly misplaced. Mark stood in the middle of the living room, a shiver reaching him when he realised that the backdoor was open. At the door, Mark saw no girly shoes. Perhaps Jaebum’s date did not stay the night. Or perhaps she had already left.

But he was wrong, proven quickly when not a woman, but a boy – around his age – shuffled out of Jaebum’s room, shirtless and nursing what looked like a terrible hangover. Mark was sitting at their dining table, playing on his phone when the boy blinked up at him.

“Jackson?” He said.

Mark shook his head, introducing himself. The boy nodded.

“My head aches. You know where the aspirin is?”

Mark did. He knew Jackson’s flat like the back of his hand. He filled up a glass of water from the tap and handed the boy two white pills. He smiled in gratitude.

“Thanks,” the boy said. He gulped them down, and Mark went back to his phone.

Jaebum came out soon after. He had thrown on a white singlet and some grey sweatpants, greeting his guest. He didn’t look at Mark, but when he passed past the latter to get to the fridge, his hands skimmed along Mark’s shoulders, warm and kind in a way Mark didn’t think about for too long. He took out some milk and poured two glasses.

“I already drank some water,” the boy declined. Jaebum nodded, handing a glass to Mark.

“You’re free to stay for some breakfast,” Jaebum said. He was looking at the boy, tone polite and devoid of Jaebum’s opinion on the matter. The boy seemed to understand, however. He shook his head.

“I’ll finish this glass, gather my things and head off,” he said. His eyes flitted towards Mark, who tilted his head.

Jaebum didn’t try to stop his guest. Instead he nodded.

“I’ll show you out,” he said when the boy finished his water.

They were at the door no more than five minutes later. The boy slid into sneakers and shrugged on a nice thick jacket. Jaebum smiled, but did not reach out to give the boy a hug.

“See you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun nodded. “Goodbye. Thanks for last night.”

The door closed, a soft thud following, and it was like Jaehyun had never even been there. Jaebum turned to Mark.

“Hey,” he said. He ran a hand through his bed hair. “What are you doing here?”

“Escaping Jinyoung and Jackson,” Mark replied. He put his phone down, watching Jaebum’s lips curl.

“Back together?” He smirked.

“As together as they can,” Mark said. He felt the weight of Jaebum sliding into the chair next to him, averting his eyes from the toned arms. “So, how was your date?”

Jaebum maintained his smile.

“ _Gratifying_ ,” he replied.

“Will there be a second?”

He hummed. “Probably not.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, but he wasn’t surprised. “No chemistry?”

Jaebum smirked. “Plenty of chemistry,” he said. “But chemistry isn’t enough for a second date.”

Mark didn’t really understand Jaebum, but this was nothing new. He had never really understood Jaebum; Jackson’s flatmate, Jinyoung’s childhood friend. He knew things about Jaebum, things along the grapevine, things he’d confirmed through their casual friendship – Jaebum was charming, Jaebum was well-dressed, Jaebum dated a lot. And things he’d heard from Jinyoung’s drunk, bitter lips –

Jaebum was a fuckboy.

But Jaebum didn’t seem like a fuckboy, not to his friends at least. Jaebum could be charming, but he could also be clumsy; awkward and uncomfortable in his anger. When it was game night Jaebum dressed in his ugly baggy pants and oversized shirt and looked like a boy from the darker side of the 90s rather than an alluring playboy. He had enough cats to fight the stereotype of a spinster, and he cooed at them and made weird faces in his room alone to amuse them. His gaze lingered a little too long at windows where he could see his reflection. Every Instagram post he made was the product of over fifty similar pictures.

To Mark, Jaebum wasn’t the typical fuckboy. But Mark wasn’t exactly sure if there was a typical fuckboy, because he seemed to know a few and none of them seemed to check all the boxes.

“They should stop dancing around each other,” Jaebum said thoughtfully. Mark looked at him, curious at first, before he remembered who they were talking about.

His fingers lingered around his phone, stuck between grasping it and ending their conversation, and being polite. He was still polite to Jaebum. They weren’t as close as Jackson and Mark were, or Jinyoung and Mark. He hummed.

“Yeah,” Mark said. “Yeah, they should.”

Jaebum eyed him. They spent a moment in silence until Jaebum said, “I’ll get you something to eat.”

The chair squeaked when Jaebum got up. Mark thought it was funny that Jaebum would pin for Jackson and Jinyoung’s relationship, but still sleep with Jackson. It was confusing to Mark, but Jaebum was confusing to Mark, and his head was filled with assignments and a sort of floaty, strange feeling, so he pushed it to the side.

Jaebum made oatmeal on the stove and added some bananas and blueberries to the top. In the centre he placed a bottle of maple syrup. Mark watched idly as Jaebum added a drop of maple syrup the size of his pinkie. Perhaps the latter was on a diet. Mark drizzled syrup over his oatmeal and began to eat.

They sat in silence comfortably, eating unattractively. Their phones were in the centre of the small dining room table, side-by-side and face up. When Mark was halfway through his bowl, Jaebum’s phone lit up.

_Nayeon._

_Text Message._

Their eyes moved towards the phone. Jaebum looked away dismissively, and Mark was not an intrusive person. They continued eating. Mark held up the bowl and began spooning the last bits of oatmeal soaked in syrup. Jaebum’s phone started buzzing.

_Nayeon is calling._

This time their eyes met. Mark kept an unassuming face, lips pressed without any sort of personal thought. Jaebum met his stare, equally dispassionate.

“Ignore that,” he said. He moved to silence his phone. The call rang out, and Jaebum was still eating. The phone rang again.

This time Mark looked curious. He tilted his head, eyes moving from the phone to Jaebum’s face. He was still impassive.

“It’s nothing,” Jaebum said dismissively.

Mark nodded, and that was that.

 

 

Jaebum walked Mark back to his dorm, primarily because he had nothing better to do. Without a hangover, Jaebum was free to spend their day as he pleased, most likely playing card games or lounging around Mark and Jinyoung’s dorm. Jackson was already there, so a mass text to Youngjae, Yugyeom and Bambam would be enough to get all their friends together.

When they arrived, Jackson and Jinyoung were already snuggling on the couch, clearly made-up and ready to be broken again. Jaebum’s lips curved slightly, a smirk with more meaning than Mark could decipher, and he nudged them into the kitchen to avoid disrupting their happiness.

“They’re back again,” Jaebum said, leaning against the counter. Mark opened their small fridge, searching for soft drinks to feed their younger friends. They didn’t need to directly address who they were talking about.

Mark hummed. “Yeah,” he said. There was a half-opened bottle of blood orange and a full bottle of Fanta. “Can you text Bambam and ask him to bring some drinks?”

“I’ll ask him to bring lunch as well,” Jaebum said. He smirked. “About time he shouted us food.”

Mark laughed. “Sick of being the oldest?”

Jaebum gave him a withered look.

“That’s technically you.”

Mark smiled. “Not in Bambam’s eyes.”

Jaebum scrunched his nose, his voice going higher to mimic Bambam’s tone. He looked silly and uncharismatic. “’ _You should be the one buying us food, you’re older than me, it’s so hard adjusting to university, you should treat your youngers’_ – that brat.”

Mark couldn’t help but laugh.

“You love him.”

Jaebum scowled. “I want to drown all his Gucci in bleach.”

“You’re a softie,” Mark smiled.

Jaebum’s tone became deeper, almost flirtatious in nature. He turned around to meet Mark’s smile.

“Only with certain people,” he said. His eyes were fixed on Mark, gaze sharp, and Mark started to pull on the neckline of his shirt. It was only the middle of spring, but suddenly he felt too hot, too warm and stuffy in their small kitchen with Jaebum’s gaze fixed solely on him.

Jaebum’s eyes then crinkled; his smile soft and friendly again, and Mark felt the weight lift as Jaebum turned away. He began opening up cupboards in Mark’s kitchen, random ones, high and low where they kept pots, pans, perishable jars of food and some of Jinyoung’s mother’s favourite ingredients and brands. Mark tilted his head.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

Jaebum turned around. His eyes met Mark’s. “I don’t want to go out there,” he confessed. “Not with _that_.”

Mark giggled.

“Too much PDA?”

Jaebum scrunched his nose. He looked like a cat, one misshapen and slightly unusual, sharp features contrasted by a childlike, clumsy gesture.

“Way too much,” he agreed.

“Well don’t slam all my doors,” Mark said.

Jaebum raised an eyebrow.

“There’s not much more for me to do.”

Mark paused, looking thoughtful. Jaebum glanced over expectantly.

“We could talk,” Mark suggested. He propped himself up onto the benchtop, legs dangling down. He watched Jaebum consider the offer, expression serious, calculating as his gaze moved from Mark’s eyes to his lips, down to his neck and even lower. Mark felt his face warm when Jaebum bit his lip.

His roommate’s best friend sauntered over to him; moving to stand in between Mark’s outstretched legs. His breath hitched when Jaebum’s eyes met his, his hands boxing Mark in, head tilted upwards like he wanted to kiss him. Mark averted his eyes.

“Okay,” Jaebum purred, low and deep. “Let’s talk.”

To Mark’s relief, he did not maintain this position for long. Jaebum soon removed himself from between Mark’s legs, lifting his body to sit next to Mark on the counter. Their thighs touched and Mark could smell his favourite cologne, the one that smelt like citrus and burning wood, sharp in the air.

“It should get hot soon,” Mark said absently. His heart was starting to pound. “Spring is ending.”

“It is,” Jaebum agreed. “It’s a shame – I really like wearing blazers.”

He shifted, removing his phone from his pocket and setting it on the counter.

“You can wear your tanks,” Mark said. “The ones that show off your arms.”

Jaebum smirked.

“You noticed?”

“Jackson never stops talking about it.” Mark didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. He turned away to hide the redness on his cheeks.

Jaebum laughed. “Glad to know my hard work isn’t going to waste.”

Mark nodded. He didn’t know what to say to Jaebum sometimes. He didn’t know what to say to anyone.

He was saved by the sound of the door unlocking, Bambam and Yugyeom’s shrieks accompanied by Youngjae’s infectious laughter, loud and resounding through the house. They were in the kitchen within seconds, faces scrunched and Youngjae’s face a bright red from crackling too hard.

“Didn’t know Jinyoung had resorted to making pornos,” Yugyeom snickered. He dumped a bag of soft drinks onto the table, just shy of Jaebum’s phone. Mark looked horrified.

“Not on my nice couch,” he said. He pushed himself off the counter, sliding between Bambam and Youngjae to enter the living room. “Jackson get your filthy hands off my roommate!”

Jinyoung and Jackson appeared scandalised, faces flushed with embarrassment. From the kitchen, Yugyeom yelled,

“They were about to suck each other off!”

Jinyoung growled. Jackson got up, stalking menacingly to the boy who went back into the kitchen to hide. Mark could hear Youngjae trying unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh.

When he returned to the kitchen, Jaebum was standing next to the counter, the place he had previously occupied now filled with pizza boxes and litres of lukewarm soda. He moved the drinks into their fridge, chucking out expired yoghurt and week-old milk. Yugyeom and Bambam had moved to raid their cupboard for cups. Mark handed Youngjae a large bottle of Sprite.

“We can drink the others when they’re cold,” he said.

Yugyeom and Bambam weren’t listening. Mark watched them laugh, moving clumsily across the small kitchen space. His eyes widened when they collided with Youngjae – the latter of which had decided to open the bottle – and his world felt like it was moving in slow motion when he saw the bottle spill.

Mark braced himself for a splash of sticky syrup, but it never came. Jaebum’s warm arm grasped his waist and moved him to the side. Instead Mark watched clear liquid bubble on his tiled floor, Youngjae soaked from his stomach down. Bambam and Yugyeom’s pant legs were dark.

“Fuck,” Mark mouthed. Jaebum’s hand didn’t leave his stomach.

“You guys better clean that up,” Jaebum said. His eyes narrowed. “Jinyoung will kill you if you don’t.”

The threat of Jinyoung was enough. Youngjae looked sheepish, while Bambam and Yugyeom were trying to roll up their pants.

“Youngjae go change,” Jaebum said. “I’m sure Mark can lend you some clothes.”

Youngjae nodded. Yugyeom looked up.

“Where do you keep your spray and wipe?”

“Under the sink.” Mark felt Jaebum’s arm tighten. He felt warm, floaty and distant from the events. “I’ll get you clothes, Youngjae.”

Jaebum released him somewhat reluctantly, following him to his room.

“Don’t give Youngjae your skinny jeans,” Jaebum said. “His legs are probably sticky.”

Mark scrunched his nose. He shifted through his drawer of pants, fingernails catching in the threads of his ripped jeans. He searched for pants that were comfortable, loose but not too much so that they would fall down. Eventually he found an old pair of harem pants, a yellow line running down both sides. Jaebum smirked when he pulled them out.

“Youngjae will hate them,” he said.

Mark shrugged, smiling.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

He found an oversized shirt and went back into the kitchen to give them to Youngjae.

Yugyeom was cleaning the floor, Bambam off probably to the bathroom to wash his ankles. Youngjae was using their dishwashing sponge to clean off any soda on their cabinets. When Bambam left the bathroom, Youngjae went off to change.

“The pizza’s probably cold by now,” Bambam moaned. Jaebum glared.

“Who told you to spill two litres of Sprite?”

Bambam looked indignant. “Um, Youngjae was part of it too! Who told him to open the bottle?” In jest, he pushed a finger to Jaebum’s chest. “You’re playing favourites! Just ‘cause he’s your composition baby.”

Jaebum rolled his eyes. His arm brushed against Mark’s.

“Youngjae isn’t my favourite,” he said. Mark didn’t dare to look his way.

“Whatever,” Bambam said, “Let’s go eat the pizza before it gets cold. Think what you want, but I tell you, Jackson and Jinyoung have had it too good for too long.”

Yugyeom crackled. He put the spray bottle on the counter, rushing off to annoy the two lovebirds. Jaebum sighed.

“’ _Let’s go eat pizza_ ’ he says, completely _ignoring_ the fucking pizza,” he moved to grab the boxes. “Fucking Bambam.”

Mark smiled.

“You love him,” he said.

Jaebum scoffed.

“I want to choke.”

Jaebum walked out of the kitchen, balancing the numerous pizza boxes in his hands. He didn’t notice that Mark wasn’t following him, setting the boxes on their dining table outside in the living room. Mark stayed in the kitchen. At first it was because he noticed a phone – Jaebum’s phone – still on the countertop where it had last been abandoned. But then he looked down, and the phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

_Nayeon_

_Text message_

_Nayeon [Kakaotalk]_

_Hello?_

_Nayeon [Kakaotalk]_

_Jaebum?_

_Nayeon [Kakaotalk]_

_When are we meeting?_

_Nayeon [Kakaotalk]_

_Are you free now?_

_Nayeon [Kakaotalk]_

_Jaebum, is your phone off?_

_Nayeon [Kakaotalk]_

_Did you forget?_

_Nayeon [Kakaotalk]_

_Are we still meeting up?_

_Nayeon [Kakaotalk]_

_When do you finish work today?_

_Nayeon [Kakaotalk]_

_I’ll come meet you._

Mark frowned. He didn’t notice Jaebum walk back in. His friend smiled.

“Oh,” Jaebum said, “That’s where I left it.”

Mark was still staring at his phone. He looked up, meeting Jaebum’s gaze. “Do you have work today?”

Jaebum frowned. He squinted at his phone, scanning through the messages. When his eyes locked with Mark, they were unreadable.

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. His tone was airy, light in a way that said both nothing and everything at the same time. Jaebum reached out to grab his phone, but it started buzzing, and Mark looked over.

_Jihyo is calling._

They exchanged a look, one that was nothing but somehow so much more. Mark’s eyes narrowed, before they settled in the mild expression he’d grown accustomed to wearing. Jaebum silenced his phone.

“She’s another tutor,” Jaebum said vaguely. Mark wasn’t an idiot. Jinyoung’s voice echoed in his mind, sharp and blunt and somehow harsher than his character would allow:

_Jaebum’s a fuckboy._

And that shouldn’t have made Mark feel the way he felt now.


	2. Chapter 2

The day had passed as quickly as it had started. One minute they were scoffing down pizza and setting up Mario Kart, the next it was close to 10 PM and everyone was ready to call it a night. They hadn’t eaten anything substantial since one – nothing but crisps, soda and lukewarm jelly – so in an effort to prolong the night, Jackson had offered to buy everyone convenience store meals so they could stay for longer.

At around ten, Mark noticed that Jaebum had started to pay more attention to his phone. He’d gone from ignoring calls to frantically texting, missing several of his turns on Mario Kart. His expression – once mild and indifferent – appeared interested now, a smile tugging on his lips. It made Mark’s stomach do funny things. He tried to take his eyes off his friend when Jackson hurled a green shell his way.

Jaebum left at ten-thirty. One minute he was there, and the next he was slipping on his oxfords, a vague message about a gathering he’d seemingly forgotten, a friend he’d forgotten to text, and Mark would be damned if any of them believed him.

Yugyeom wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, flushing red when Jinyoung reminded him of the time he’d been no different, a shy first year entranced by the life Jaebum seemed to lead. That shut the youngest up faster than a slap. They stopped playing when Jackson returned with dinner.

Mark chewed on his store-bought kimbap quietly. No one knew him to be any different, so they left him to his thoughts as they laughed, they joked and at one point they made Bambam choke out the rest of his food onto Jinyoung’s favourite coffee table. A ruckus followed, one which had Jinyoung threatening to shove bleach down Bambam’s throat, and ended in the latter cleaning their coffee table and floor as the rest of them continued to stuff their mouths. The hints of a smile appeared on Mark’s face.

Mark thought briefly about Jaebum, about Jaebum’s touches and his almost flirtatious character, something he knew he didn’t own, but somehow felt like he did. Jaebum had offered him his favourite jacket. He didn’t do that to Jackson or Jinyoung. He didn’t do that to anyone. Jaebum didn’t kick him out of his apartment like he did with Jaehyun ( _but_ , his mind reminded him cruelly, _you didn’t sleep with him_ ). He even seemed to like Mark, court him like he would court a boyfriend rather than a lover. Mark didn’t want to think too much about it. He didn’t want to get lost in reading situations he wasn’t sure were even there. Because in the end, he still didn’t understand Jaebum.

And that made him feel weird, anxious, indescribable things. When his face twisted, Jackson elbowed him.

“Hello? Earth to Mark?” He took a piece of Mark’s kimbap. “We’re here, not in that weird head of yours. Dreaming of sleeping?”

Bambam snickered and Mark pretended to hit Jackson.

“Fuck off,” he said without malice. Jackson pouted, and instinctively, Jinyoung moved to pull him towards his chest.

When they finished their food, Jinyoung kicked everyone out, afraid of further damage to his flat. Yugyeom and Bambam tried to beg, eyes widening and pouts in effect, but Jinyoung knew too well how to say no to them. Youngjae was yawning and was ready to call it a night anyway, and with Youngjae decided, the youngest two had no choice but to follow. The three of them were putting on their shoes when they noticed that Jackson was still sitting on the couch.

“How come Jackson gets to stay?” Bambam sounded mortified. Next to him, Yugyeom squawked.

“Favouritism!” He cried. In his exclamation, he accidentally elbowed Youngjae, who had been falling asleep against the door. The latter blinked, disoriented.

Mark yawned. He turned to Jinyoung, eyebrow raised.

Jinyoung flushed. “Shut up.”

“You’re playing favourites,” Bambam accused. Yugyeom nodded furiously. “You’re choosing favourites! I can’t believe this is what my life has come to. I can’t trust anyone, not even my friends. You think you know people, you really do, and then they stab you in the back. I can’t believe this.”

Jinyoung narrowed his eyes, cheeks still red.

“Don’t think I haven’t forgotten how you and Youngjae went to eat meat without me,” he said.

It was Bambam’s turn to flush. Yugyeom removed himself from his best friend’s arm.

“You ate meat without me?” He asked. Bambam spluttered.

“Have this conversation outside,” Jinyoung said quickly. He opened the door, shoving the three boys out. “Goodbye! Love you! See you tomorrow!”

Bambam and Yugyeom’s shouts could still be heard outside. Before he left, Youngjae shot them a helpless look. The three boys inside did nothing to help their friend.

When the door was closed, Mark’s gaze moved between Jinyoung and Jackson. The two looked back guiltily, like dogs caught digging holes in the garden. They all knew the situation they were in. And they all knew how quickly things could revert back to one night before, slamming doors and angry jabs, early nights and tension thick enough to slice with a knife. Mark frowned, but didn’t speak.

“I live here too,” he reminded them. He went to bed, and that was that.

Mark wasn’t mad. Never, never at Jackson, no matter how many times they played the same game. Jackson and Jinyoung were like a broken record, a tape stuck replaying the same scene. They fought and didn’t speak and then they made up and made love and cuddled on the couch. And every time they did so, Mark knew that Jinyoung thought this would be the last time, Jackson wanted to believe this was their end, but everyone else was well aware that the two boys didn’t know what a happy ending was. Mark closed his door quietly to let them know he wasn’t angry, and then he brushed his teeth and went to bed.

As his head hit the pillow, a dark voice reminded him,

_You’re no better. You think pining after Jaebum will make you any happier?_

But Mark wasn’t Jinyoung. He didn’t overthink like Jackson, he didn’t brood like Jinyoung. He pushed the thought to the back of his head, swallowed the dark voice in pillows, and fell asleep.

 

 

“Mark?”

Mark turned around slowly, body still laced with sleep. At 10 AM, he was still struggling to stay awake, cardigan almost falling off his shoulders as he shifted his books. Jaebum made his way towards him, looking put-together in his denim jacket and washed out jeans. He smiled.

“Hey,” he said.

Mark nodded. “Hey.” His brain started to catch up. “Haven’t seen you since Saturday.”

Jaebum smirked.

“Well,” he said, “It’s only Tuesday. Did you miss me?”

Mark wanted to roll his eyes, but it was so much easier to close his eyes and pretend to fall asleep. Jaebum laughed.

“Hey, hey!” His hands settled on Mark’s shoulders. “Don’t fall asleep on me yet. Where are you heading?”

Mark scrunched up his nose. “Marketing lecture.” He groaned. “Ugh, I don’t want to go.”

Jaebum smiled. “We could ditch?”

Mark shook his head.

“My exam is next week. I have too many lectures to catch up on.”

Jaebum laughed.

“C’mon,” he smiled. “I’ll walk you there.”

Jaebum didn’t sling his arm around Mark’s shoulder. Instead Mark felt an arm snake around his waist, securing him in place as they walked up the stairs. Again his face flushed, and if Jaebum noticed he didn’t mention it, instead tightening his grip when a group of first years rushed past them. Mark wanted to lean into his grasp, but he knew better than to fall down that rabbit hole.

The walk to Lecture Theatre 2 was shorter than he remembered. They were there in a matter of seconds, the door ajar since the last class had just finished. Mark’s eyebrows shot up when Jaebum didn’t remove his arm, instead walking in with him. When he looked over questioningly, the latter shrugged.

“I have a free,” Jaebum said. Mark didn’t look at his eyes. Instead he focused on the space between them. He nodded dumbly in response.

They found a seat towards the back of the lecture hall and began to set up their things, Mark unzipping his bag to find his laptop. He looked over to see Jaebum taking out a pair of headphones, a black pencil case and a book that looked uncannily familiar.

“Hey!” Mark’s shout surprised even himself. “I remember that. I got you it, didn’t I?”

Jaebum raised his eyebrows. He held up the notebook in his hands. “This?” He smiled. “I think so.”

 “You still use it?” In response, Jaebum nodded. “That’s cool.”

He shrugged. “It was a good gift.” He opened up the notebook, leafing through worn, marked pages. It made Mark feel warm. “Very functional.”

“Glad it was of some use,” Mark replied.

He was booting up his laptop when he heard a loud bark of laughter and someone call his name.

“Hey Mark!”

Mark turned around to meet the smiles of Hoseok and Jimin, friends of friends he’d met through Jackson. They were the only people he knew in his marketing class – Mark wasn’t exactly the most outgoing, friendly third year – and even they were hardly present. Most mornings, Jimin slept through his alarm and Hoseok, his roommate, saw no intention of going to their lectures once his friend had conveniently forgotten. It worked well for Mark, who was only attending his current lecture because he couldn’t afford to catch up. Their smiles were infectious as they beamed at Mark, clearly intending to walk over. However they halted to a stop when they caught sight of Jaebum. Mark watched their faces fall.

“Oh,” it was Jimin who’d spoken, a soft murmur Mark barely caught. He cleared his throat. “Hi, Jaebum.”

Jaebum nodded stiffly. He threw his arm over Mark’s shoulder, tugging him towards himself.

“Hi.”

The air was filled with an awkward, intentional silence. Jimin cleared his throat.

“We’re going to sit at the front,” he said. He moved his attention towards Mark, looking almost apologetic. “Hoseok forgot his glasses.”

Hoseok made a small whine – one that gave away their whole charade – but Jimin quickly ushered him away, climbing down towards the front of the lecture hall. The room was starting to fill up, chatter becoming louder as students with back-to-back classes rushed in. Mark tore his gaze away from his retreating friends, questions and suspicions bubbling in his stomach. Jaebum pried them away with his fingers, curling around Mark’s shoulders almost comfortingly.

 “I didn’t know you knew Jimin,” Mark said. He stared into Jaebum’s eyes, challenging him to deny it.

Jaebum’s lips curved.

“We have some mutual friends,” Jaebum said. Mark wanted to raise an eyebrow, mutter in a sceptical, dark tone ‘ _friends?_ ’

But he wasn’t like that, so he settled in his seat and nodded as if he believed him.

Jaebum didn’t remove his arm from Mark’s shoulders. With one hand, he popped a piece of gum into his mouth and started chewing, softly as to avoid being obnoxious. Their lecturer had just entered, and was setting up the projector down at the front of the hall.

Jaebum chuckled when the first lecture slide appeared on the screen.

“Seriously?” Mark could smell the peppermint in his breath, cool and indifferent like Jaebum himself. “ _The Face Shop_?”

Mark shrugged.

“It’s a popular brand overseas.” He smiled, “A good example of the power of celebrity endorsement.”

Jaebum hummed. He was still facing Mark, hot breath fanning the latter’s ear. Mark’s heart started pounding, so loud that he swore Jaebum, if not the whole lecture hall, could hear it, and in an effort to calm his racing heart, he breathed heavily, shoulders tensing ever so slightly in an attempt to ground himself. Being around Jaebum turned him into a flustered sixteen-year-old.

Jaebum laughed. Mark tried to glare at him, but his cheeks were flushing.

“Don’t distract me,” he said.

Jaebum bit back a smirk. Nevertheless, he removed his arm and settled back in his seat, attention directed back at his composition book. Mark could still feel the warmth from where his arm had been, its absence somehow even more noticeable as Jaebum leafed through the pages. A part of him, Mark noticed, wanted Jaebum’s arm back. And he didn’t know what to do about that part.

The hour was horrendously long, and Mark was stuck in between wishing it was over, and wishing that it would never end. Jaebum’s quiet presence, settled next to him, was doing things to his heart that Mark didn’t know how to describe. He wanted to run away, gather up his things and leave, but he also wanted to be here forever, wanted to have Jaebum around in every class, every moment, stuck to his side like he never wanted to leave him. Mark wasn’t an idiot: he knew that friends didn’t feel like this about each other. But he also wasn’t a romantic – he wasn’t about to fall head over heels in love with Jaebum.

The hour ended, and Mark realised in horror that he’d written two pages worth of notes. He wasn’t sure how relevant half of it was to his upcoming exam, most of his notes phrases rather than actual concepts. The rustle of students packing up their things – their conversation rising – jolted him out of his thoughts. He saved the document, closed his laptop and prepared to place it back in its case. Jaebum did the same.

When Jimin and Hoseok passed them, Mark watched both of them turn down. He didn’t call out to them. There seemed to be something wrong, some sort of riff that kept Jaebum and his friends apart. He noted that Jaebum did the same, slinging his arm around Mark casually whilst pretending that he didn’t see the two boys pass. It was like they in on some larger secret that only Mark didn’t know, like they were all aware of the werewolves and Mark was just an oblivious parent. Perhaps if Mark was Jinyoung, or Jackson, he’d stop, force Jaebum to look at him, demand that he tell him what was going on. But Mark wasn’t confrontational. He wasn’t that brave. Instead he let Jaebum lead him out of the lecture hall and the building.

The cold air felt particularly harsh on his skin. Mark shuddered and in response, Jaebum’s grip tightened. Marketing had been Mark’s first and last class for the day. His schedule was good in that sense – Monday was a packed day, and Tuesday became his rest and recover. He was planning to nap through lunch – wake up around 4 PM to eat before catching up on his lectures. Mark had a feeling that Jaebum was about to throw his schedule off.

“There’s a party this Friday,” Jaebum said. “I don’t know if Jackson told you.”

Mark nodded. He resisted the urge to shrug, knowing that if he did, Jaebum would withdraw his arm.

“I saw,” he said.

“Are you going?” Jaebum asked.

“Probably,” Mark blew air at his fringe, moving hair out of his way. “Jinyoung will go if Jackson goes. Someone has to look after the two of them.”

He paused.

“Are you?”

Jaebum smiled.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be there.”

Mark returned the gesture.

“Going with anyone?” Mark asked.

Jaebum eyed him in a way that looked careless on first glance. But he was more in control of his gestures than people assumed.

“I’m hoping so,” he said lightly. Mark met his gaze, cheeks blushing red.

They stopped walking, off of the sidewalk to avoid obstructing other students. Jaebum turned to face him, expression kind as he moved his hand to brush Mark’s fringe out of the way. His hair, stubborn, immediately swung back into place, and out of habit, Mark blew out air. Their eyes met and Jaebum’s lips curved into a smile, one that was kind and flirty and almost boyish, like they were in a movie falling in love. Mark, against all judgement, returned the smile, his eyes curving into crescents and he knew what they looked like then, what _he_ looked like then, because Jinyoung was so open when he was drunk. Mark was painfully aware of how strung he was.

“Let’s go together,” Jaebum suggested, light and casual, because he’d done it all before.

Mark smiled and giggled and did all the things Jinyoung mocked all of his friend’s other suitors for doing every night when he’d drank too much.

“Sure.” His voice was embarrassingly high. Immediately, Mark wanted to cover his face.

“Cool,” Jaebum’s smile was blinding, and Mark wanted desperately for that smile to be his. “I’ll come by around nine?”

“Yeah,” Mark echoed. “Yeah.”

Jaebum grinned.

“See you there.”

 

 

Mark’s second and final marketing lecture for the week was on a Thursday afternoon. It was straight after his finance tutorial and Mark didn’t want to go, not really, but he was already on campus and it was only a two minute walk away from his tutorial room, so he really had no excuse. He trudged over reluctantly, settling into an empty row.

“Mark!”

It was Hoseok calling this time. Mark was impressed, eyeing Jimin who was trailing behind him. The two boys had come to two consecutive lectures – Mark hadn’t seen this kind of reliability from them since week three of the semester. He watched Jimin’s head stretch to look at the empty seats next to him – presumably looking for Jaebum – before his frown gave way for a smile and the two boys shuffled into the seats next to him.

Mark liked sitting with the boys. He liked sitting with people in lectures, even if they never spoke. He didn’t know why. It was comforting to have someone familiar, he supposed.

Jimin sat next to him. Hoseok moved to the side to let Jimin walk in first, angling himself away from the folding seats. For a while, they settled in wordlessly, the rustling of bags and laptops the only sound shared between them. However their silence could only last for so long. Eventually, Hoseok nudged Jimin, and the latter cleared his throat.

“So,” Jimin coughed. “Jaebum, huh?”

Mark tilted his head. He understood the connotation immediately. Perhaps he’d always understood why they’d been so wary.

“We’re just friends,” he clarified. “Jaebum’s my roommate’s best friend. He’s also the roommate of my best friend.”

Tension leaked from Hoseok’s shoulders when they sagged, but Jimin didn’t look as convinced.

“He doesn’t do marketing,” Jimin said. His eyes narrowed. “What was he doing last Tuesday?”

“Oh,” Mark bit his lip. “I bumped into him on the way to the lecture. He offered to sit in with me, I guess.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow.

“That’s unusually kind of him,” he muttered. Mark pretended that he didn’t hear it. He didn’t feel the need to defend Jaebum.

Jaebum didn’t act in a way that deserved it.

Jimin looked up to meet his eye. “You know about his…” Mark’s friend struggled to find the right word. “…reputation, right?”

Hoseok, who looked like he couldn’t find a spot of darkness in the sky, was unusually solemn.

Mark nodded.

“Yeah,” he said.

Jimin exhaled.

“Good,” he said. “Then you’ll understand why I’m wary.”

Mark frowned. Despite himself, he shook his head.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he lied.

Hoseok smiled. “We just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said diplomatically.

Jimin nodded. “I mean,” he met Mark’s gaze evenly; “Can you really be _just friends_ with Im Jaebum?”

Mark frowned. A row of memories flashed, each more incriminating than the last, and Mark knew that every word they said was a direct attack on him.

“He’s in my friend group,” Mark said, and he wanted to take it back when his friends shot him distrustful looks. “He’s friends with Yugyeom, Youngjae, Bambam, Jinyoung…” He wanted to say Jackson, but he knew that wasn’t true. “They’re all platonic.”

Jimin nodded, unconvinced.

“You know what I’m saying Mark,” he said. Mark knew he was right. “I’m just telling you to be careful. He’s not the kind of boy you date.”

“I know that,” Mark said quietly. “I’m not trying to date Jaebum.”

Jimin smiled, but he wasn’t happy.

“And he’s not trying to date you,” Jimin said, “Remember that.”

They spent a few moments in silence. Mark didn’t want to think about this. He didn’t want to think about Jaebum. Because he knew what they were saying, and he knew it was all true, and he knew more than anyone – as the confide of Jinyoung’s drunken confessions – that Jaebum would not date him. Jaebum didn’t love him. But sometimes Mark thought that he wasn’t in control of his emotions as much as he would’ve hoped, and that sometimes his heart separated from his head and did strange things, did impulsive things, felt things that were irrational and wrong and didn’t have a place in his head.

Like how he felt his heart hammering whenever Jaebum did kind things to him.

“Anyway,” Hoseok’s voice cut through his thoughts, bright in a way that seemed like an attempt to lighten the mood. “Has anyone done the pre-tutorial quiz?”

Jimin groaned. “No – fuck me.”

“Let’s do it now,” Mark suggested. And that was the end of that conversation.

But he was still in a predicament, if Jimin’s face was anything to go by.

 

 

On Friday, no one could tell that butterflies were fluttering around Mark’s stomach, making him nervous and anxious and dizzy with anticipation and fear.

He didn’t take forever to choose his outfit because he’d already planned it Thursday night in his head. Jinyoung always helped him with his hair when they went out, and by association had helped conceal any acne with some cream he’d bought. When Jaebum arrived, ten minutes late with ruffled hair and another leather jacket, Mark found his breath catch and watched as Jaebum scrutinised him, looking for trembling hands and overdone hair and a room that looked like he’d agonised over how Jaebum saw him. He would be disappointed.

But Jaebum didn’t show it. Instead he moved to hug Mark and nod at Jinyoung, ignoring the hard stare his friend was giving him.

“Let’s go?” He suggested.

Mark smiled. “Sure,” he looked behind the other boy. “Where’s Jackson?”

Jaebum’s look was unreadable.

“I don’t know, why?”

Mark turned around. Jinyoung’s look was equally hard to decipher.

“Aren’t we going with Jackson and Jinyoung?”

At that, Jaebum’s body relaxed and Jinyoung went from unreadable to bashful. His cheeks coloured as he looked down.

“Jackson’s coming later,” he spoke to the floor. “We’ll head there in an hour or so. Just have some things to take care of, first.”

Jaebum scoffed, and Mark resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t want to know. Jaebum tugged on Mark’s hand.

“C’mon,” he said, “We’ll meet them there.”

Mark slipped into some Adidas sneakers, digging his heel into the shoe to avoid retying his laces. Jaebum held the door open for him and Mark nodded, walking out first. He heard Jinyoung call to Jaebum.

His voice was lowered, like he didn’t want Mark to hear. Mark could only hear murmurs from Jinyoung’s part, Jaebum much closer.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Jaebum turned to smile at Mark, before rolling his eyes. He spoke again to Jinyoung. “Yeah, I _promise_.”

He shut the door behind him, pausing to hear the soft click. Mark looked at him.

“What was that about?”

Jaebum glanced down. He took two seconds to answer.

“Oh,” he said mildly. “Nothing much – Jinyoung just wanted to make sure that Jackson was coming over. You know how he is.”

Mark wasn’t sure whether Jaebum was talking about Jinyoung or Jackson. He frowned.

“Why did he ask you?” Mark asked. “I know Jackson better.”

Jaebum pretended to be offended.

“I’m his roommate,” he explained. “I have more leverage.”

“Like what?” Mark shot back.

“I can throw out all his favourite clothes and that expensive Cartier bracelet he bought last year,” Jaebum replied. He tilted his head. “Now, are we going to talk about my roommate for the whole night?”

Mark scoffed. “He’s my best friend as well.”

Jaebum laughed.

“That’s not what I meant, Mark.”

Mark wanted to keep walking, but Jaebum had stopped. He looked back, confused.

Jaebum’s smile was warmer than the sun.

“Sorry,” he said, “I just hadn’t realised how cute you are.”

Mark spluttered, and then laughed. Jaebum grinned.

“God,” Mark snorted, “When did you become so cheesey?”

Jaebum laughed, but didn’t reply. They walked to his car quietly, Jaebum’s hand gripping Mark’s, leading him into the second-hand Subaru WRX. Mark raised his eyebrow.

“Are you designated driver today?” Mark asked.

Jaebum fiddled with the aux cord.

“I’m hoping I won’t have to drive,” he replied. He shot a look at Mark, before pushing the car into reverse.

Mark looked down.

“You drive stick?”

“Yeah,” Jaebum pulled out onto the road. “It relaxes me. And it’s faster.”

Mark snorted.

“Yeah, right.”

Jaebum smirked. “I’d race you,” he said, “But I think your Civic would break down before we started.”

Mark huffed. “It’s an old car!”

“It’s an ugly car,” Jaebum teased. It was only a ten minute drive, but Mark felt like he’d only been in for a heartbeat. Soon they were pulling up to the side and getting out of Jaebum’s dusty car, fingers entwined as they entered the house.

Outside the lights were bright, a few flashes of green evident. But inside Mark couldn’t even hear his own voice, music so loud it seemed to vibrate through the walls. Jaebum’s hand felt comforting in his, tight and warm to anchor him in between all the sounds. He could smell the distinct stench of alcohol, could hear people laugh and greet him and Jaebum as they passed. The thump of the bass reverberated through his body. And slowly they’d moved from the front of the house to the very back, Mark’s side leaning against the flyscreen as Jaebum smiled up at him.

“Better?” He asked. Mark tilted his head.

“What?”

Jaebum shrugged. “You looked uncomfortable in the hallway,” he said, gesturing to the front of the house. “I thought you’d like it better here – less people.”

Mark blinked.

“Oh. Yeah.” He looked down. “Thanks.”

The night was dark. At the back the lights had been turned off, room lit by some strange red lamps. They formed pinkish hues as they crossed Jaebum’s face, his sharp features boyish in the light. Mark felt boxed in between the backdoor and Jaebum’s body, but it didn’t bother him, not when Jaebum seemed so close to him, smiled charmingly at him, and it was hard to associate this Jaebum with the Jaebum who’d tripped down their stairs twice on a Tuesday when they’d lost a bet and been forced to buy red bean ice-cream.

“No problem,” Jaebum murmured. He leaned in, eyes fixed on Mark’s. He had a demanding gaze, one that refused to let Mark pull away. “Anything for you.”

They were going to kiss, Mark thought, he and Jaebum were going to kiss. But before they could, a voice cut in through the crowds.

“ _Mork!_ ”

Jaebum pulled back, irritated as he watched Jackson weave through the crowds, Jinyoung still in tow. Mark didn’t know whether he was disappointed or relieved – disappointed he couldn’t kiss Jaebum, or relieved that he didn’t get to feed his irrational heart. Jackson bounced up to them, ignoring Jaebum’s glare.

“I thought you said you’d be late,” Jaebum grumbled.

Jackson laughed. His left hand was clutching Jinyoung’s wrist, pulling the latter so that they stood side-by-side.

“And let you leave Mark as you look for your next fuck?” Jackson’s bright tone didn’t contain a single ounce of disapproval. “I’m not _that_ bad of a friend.”

Mark frowned.

“I’m the one babysitting you,” he said. He pretended not to notice the way Jaebum had left his side, his body suddenly cold. “Not the other way around.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Um, you’re the one being driven by fuckboy master over here,” he gestured towards Jaebum. “If anyone’s in a compromising situation, it’s you.”

“Just wait until the end of the night,” Mark muttered. He decided to hold his tongue and stop speaking. If Jackson noticed, it didn’t appear on his face.

“Anyway,” Jackson cheered, “Let’s get _blackout drunk_!”

He was fist-pumping alone. Mark turned to Jinyoung.

“How did you guys get here?”

“Uber,” Jinyoung replied. He looked like he wanted to say more, but Jackson was tugging on his wrist, gesturing animatedly towards a table filled with drinks. Jinyoung gave in as Jaebum moved to grab Mark’s wrist.

“Do you want anything?” He asked.

Mark paused.

“Maybe later,” he said. He smiled. “Don’t you go getting wasted, driver.”

Jaebum rolled his eyes, but smiled. Jinyoung and Jackson had disappeared at this point, off, Mark assumed, to inevitably get drunk and perform their usual episode of kisses and fights. Next to him, Jaebum shifted so that he was closer to Mark.

“I wouldn’t put you in danger,” he said.

He smiled, hands moving to clutch Mark’s shoulders. Mark felt his heart pound as Jaebum leaned in, lips pursed for a cheeky peck.

“I’ll go get you some Fanta,” he said, releasing Mark just in time for the latter to catch his breath. Mark leaned against the wall as Jaebum sauntered off.

He had to control his hammering heart. He had to control all these strange feelings that seemed to come every time Jaebum was in his proximity. The upbeat techno song seemed to slow to a mellow tune as Mark struggled to regulate his breathing, heart thumping erratically against his chest. The people around him were swaying to the beat, and Mark tried to breathe to the rhythm of their movements.

Soon, Jaebum found his way back.

“Here,” he smiled. Mark took the cup.

“You didn’t spike it,” he eyed his friend suspiciously, “did you?”

Jaebum laughed.

“You need to get the tension out of your body,” he replied.

Mark bit his lip.

“That’s not an answer,” he said lightly.

Jaebum shook his head.

“Just a little vodka,” he said. Mark pretended to glare. “Just drink the cup, Mark.”

Mark wasn’t driving, so he did. The faint, bitter taste of alcohol tingled as it went down his throat, masked slightly by the sweet beverage. He felt fine and jokingly pulled the cup away when Jaebum leaned over to sip.

“Don’t you dare drink, driver,” he said. Jaebum’s chuckle made him smile.

“Is that all I am to you?” He teased. Mark took another sip. “Just a driver?”

Mark smiled.

“Why?” He said. “Do you want to be more?”

His heart pounded. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

Jaebum must have sensed his discomfort, because he didn’t answer. Instead he let Mark finish his drink, tossing the cup into an open garbage bag. His fingers curled around Mark’s wrist.

“Let’s dance,” he suggested instead. Mark faked distress.

“I’m too sober for that,” he said. Jaebum rolled his eyes.

“Not like that,” Jaebum said. His free hand moved to grab Mark’s waist. The hand around his wrist moved to place Mark’s arm on his shoulder. Naturally, his other arm followed.

Mark’s face was burning. The world seemed to slow around him, down tempo like the music.

“Like this,” Jaebum said softly. Mark could still hear the same song, soft and sultry and if Mark were cocky, he would’ve thought that Jaebum chose this song just for them. He closed his eyes, arms tightening around the younger male as they swayed.

When Mark opened his eyes again, they met Jaebum’s, soft and warm, lit by the strange red light. Jaebum looked so pretty like this, he thought, so delicate, so dangerous. He looked like a midnight lover, a travel companion, a boy for exploring the streets and bright lights, ripped jeans and black hoodies concealing tragically generic faces. They could be in New York or Tokyo, wherever the lights seemed so much brighter at night, neon reds and yellows softened by blue hues and rainy nights. Mark could feel his breath pick up as Jaebum smiled at him, soft and sly and _dangerous_. Halsey sang to them.

_Oh, maybe, you could devastate me._

Their lips were getting closer, Mark thought. In a moment they were slowly drifting, and now time seemed to speed up. Maybe she was right: Jaebum could devastate him.

Mark thought they would kiss, but all Jaebum did was press their foreheads together, now swaying in time to the beat. Jaebum smiled and so did Mark – in fact, his whole body lit up, beamed like the sun because Jaebum was smiling at him, Jaebum was looking soft, and they could do this for hours, Mark thought. He wouldn’t mind being with Jaebum for hours.

A dark The Neighbourhood song followed, and still they remained plastered to each other. They were stuck to each other from The Neighbourhood to Khalid to blackbear, bodies slowly twisting so that they seemed inseparable, in love, and Mark only pulled away when his mouth felt dry and he felt too sober for a Friday night so he took a few shots of vodka and waited for the buzz to kick in.

Mark was terrible with alcohol, so when he tried to head back to find Jaebum, he felt the urge to pee. He switched directions, shuffling past groups of enthusiastic dancers to find the bathroom. Near the stairs there were sparse groups of people talking, good friends and smitten couples, all curled up like they were in their own bubble-gum candy worlds. He trampled past them up the stairs, searching carelessly until he found it.

When he was relieved, he headed back to Jaebum, traversing down the stairs until he caught sight of a shiny black cap. He squinted. It looked familiar, with its luxurious material and shiny ‘WANG’ plastic letters on the front. Jackson, he thought. He moved towards the figure.

Only it wasn’t Jackson wearing the cap. It was a girl – a girl who definitely wasn’t Jinyoung – and Jackson seemed overly interested in talking to her, jacket discarded to reveal a muscle shirt and very prominent biceps.

Mark looked around. Jinyoung wasn’t fuming anywhere in sight, but Mark didn’t need a degree to know what would happen next. Jackson flashed a smile – the one he reserved for his momentary loves – adjusting the hat onto the girl’s head as she smiled. Their hands were entwined, and any moment now, Mark knew Jackson would suggest that they take this someplace else.

Mark didn’t usually interfere. He didn’t want to, not typically. Other people’s lives were their own; but today, for some reason, was different. He didn’t know why. Maybe he’d gotten sick of the push and pull that seemed to come from Jinyoung and Jackson’s relationship, maybe he was over blacking out with Jinyoung and vomiting in their toilet every time Jackson fucked up, or maybe he wanted to set Jackson right because if he could suppress the fuckboy in Jackson, he’d be able to do that with Jaebum.

But that was another rabbit hole he preferred to steer away from.

Mark made his way towards Jackson, smiling politely at the girl as he tugged on his friend’s arm.

Jackson’s eyes widened, voice comedic and loud like it always was when he drank too much.

“Ohhh heey Mark!” Jackson grinned. “What are you doing here?”

“Babysitting you,” Mark muttered, but no one could hear him over the music. He raised his voice. “Where’s Jinyoung?”

Jackson waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, I don’t know! Somewhere here. I’d look around the garden?”

He turned back to the girl, but Mark decided that tonight he wouldn’t give up. Mark glanced at the girl briefly, before tugging again on Jackson’s arm.

“Isn’t he your date for the night?” He said loudly. The girl’s eyebrows furrowed, but Jackson didn’t seem fussed.

“We just came together,” he said, more to the girl than Mark. He turned back to his friend, theatrical as always. “Oh, you know how Jinyoung is. Always sulky and moody. He stormed off a while ago, in fact. Dunno where he went.”

Mark frowned.

“Shouldn’t you go after him?” Mark said.

Jackson mirrored his expression. “Oh you know him,” he wailed. Mark knew then that he’d drunk too much. “He never talks to me. Do you know what that’s like Mark?”

The girl’s scowl had deepened, but Jackson didn’t seem to remember that she was still there.

“He’s always _glaring_ at me, storming off, never tells me what’s wrong when he’s angry, just ignores me for days,” Jackson moaned. “How am I supposed to deal with _that_?”

Mark raised an eyebrow.

“You’re both something,” he said under his breath, “I’ll give you that. Now c’mon, let’s get you home before you do something you regret.”

He shot a look at the girl. She seemed unimpressed, arms crossed with Jackson’s oversized snapback falling further down her face.

“Sorry,” Mark said, “We’ve got to go.”

She merely raised an eyebrow. The girl took off the snapback, almost throwing it back to a dizzy Jackson.

It was probably for the best, Mark thought. Getting involved with Jackson seemed to be more trouble than it was worth. Mark tugged on his friend and dragged him back to Jaebum, hoping the latter could bring all three of them home. Jackson was wailing behind him.

“What’d you do that for?” He cried. “We were just getting to know each other!”

Mark rolled his eyes.

“You don’t want to do that,” he replied. “You would’ve regretted it in the morning.”

Jackson snorted.

“You’re just saying that because you haven’t gotten laid.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. Drunk Jackson had none of the debating skills of sober Jackson, who could run circles around Mark in a matter of seconds. “I didn’t know my sex life affected my rationality.”

“You’re so tightly wound, Mark! You need to let go! Get fucked.” Jackson chortled. “Do it! C’mon, one time!”

Mark fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Shut up, Jackson.”

“No,” he giggled this time. “ _You_ shut up!”

Mark moved towards the back of the house, Jackson still in tow. In the corner of his eye he could make out Jaebum, his distinctive leather jacket bright in the red light, but as they moved closer towards him, Mark realised that he wasn’t alone. Jaebum was holding a cup – one, Mark hoped, was strictly non-alcoholic – side against the wall as he smiled at a petite little girl. Her hair was silver, long and straight, her heels tall with ribbon straps laced around her slim legs. She smiled up at him in her oversized sweater, and Mark thought pathetically how good they looked together.

“See?” Jackson mumbled. “At least _Jaebum’s_ getting some. _Woooooo! Go Jaebum!”_

Mark winced, watching Jaebum turn irritably in their direction. His face softened when he saw Mark, Jackson still in tow. Jaebum removed himself away from the pretty girl – setting his cup on the table as if he were going to come back – before he made his way towards them. Mark looked apologetic, but he didn’t feel so. Instead, he felt pride. He swallowed his emotions back down.

“We need to get him home,” Mark explained, gesturing towards the boy who had now thrown his arm over Mark’s shoulders. Jackson burped and Mark turned away, right in time to meet the eyes of Jaebum’s previous companion. Her pretty eyes were trained on him. “If you want to stay, it’s fine – I can call an Uber.”

Jaebum shook his head. “No, I’m good.” He pulled his keys out from his back pocket. “Let’s go, hey?”

“Yeah,” Mark nodded, and he felt his heart flutter. “I’ll text Jinyoung that we’re bringing Jackson back.”

Jaebum frowned.

“Yeah, Jinyoung – where is he?”

Mark felt Jackson’s body jolt, as if he were about to speak.

“Let’s not get our drunk started,” Mark said. He nudged Jackson to still him. Jaebum raised an eyebrow.

“Again?” He asked.

Mark nodded. “Again.”

He rolled his eyes. Mark shifted his weight as Jaebum spoke to Jackson, his eyes still trained on Mark.

“Let’s get you home.”


End file.
